Five Times He Didn't Kiss
by katierosefun
Summary: Five times the Doctor didn't kiss Clara Oswald…and the one time he did. [Obviously Whouffaldi.]
1. First Time

**I've had the weirdest day at school ****_ever_****. And possibly the scariest...today, there was a gas leak at my school...and then less than an hour later, a bomb threat was delivered to our school. We had to evacuate the building and walk to the nearest elementary school and camp outdoors and wait for the police officers (with their dogs) to sniff out the possible bomb. While we waited, I started to think about a situation in which the Doctor might appear in his TARDIS and begin talking about how aliens were going to take over the school and etc. **

**But instead, I came up with this story. Enjoy! **

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><p><em>First Time – because he didn't want to look fake. <em>

Clara Oswald was standing in line to get chips. Her arms (still clad in the black velvet of her cardigan) were crossed over her white blouse, her teeth biting down ever-so-slightly on her lower lip, her entire body pushing only lightly forward on the tips of her toes. Clara's eyes were intent on scanning the menu on the black chalkboard of the shop, a wide smile crossing her lips when she found a price to her liking. "Looks like chips are a go, after all," she said happily over her shoulder.

The Doctor only nodded. Towering behind Clara Oswald's small figure, the Doctor figured the two must have looked like an odd pair – he was aware of the stares that were casually thrown over to them every few minutes. However, the Doctor was never bothered by being inconspicuous, and he was fairly sure that this version of himself didn't mind, either. He paused and ran over his mind – no, he didn't care. He could carry on.

As the line moved up, Clara occasionally looked over her shoulder, almost as though to see if the Doctor was still behind her. Each time she _did _see him, another small smile would twitch over her lips. And each time she did that, the Doctor wondered if he should say something – was there something wrong? What's so funny? Why was she looking at him like that?

"Look at you, with that intense look," Clara finally commented. She didn't look bewildered or worried as she had been before, though, so the Doctor took that as a good sign to reply, "Do I, really?" He gestured around the shop. "Suppose I could only have that reaction after showing up in…Glasgow."

"Certainly fits," Clara murmured, shaking her head.

The Doctor blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm? It wasn't supposed to mean anything – it's just – Glasgow. You know, Scotland and all that," Clara replied. She pointed at the Doctor with a finger. "And you've got a new accent and all that. _Scottish_." The Doctor blinked again. He frowned and asked, "Are you getting that only now?"

At those words, Clara's hand fell limply to her side. She opened her mouth to respond, and then closing her eyes, quickly turned back around. The Doctor's pulse quickened in…was that panic? (How curious – the Doctor was feeling something new in this body…) He stared at Clara's back and asked, "Did I say something? What's with the shunting?"

"It's nothing," Clara replied, her voice soft. She took a few steps forward the line and added, "It's – I forgot about something."

The flat notes to Clara's voice didn't sound so convincing to the Doctor. He scowled at Clara's back and turned back around to face a curious looking girl. She looked a bit younger than Clara – so she must be what, thirty-five years old? The girl had wavy, red hair and startling set of blue-green eyes. Her arms were folded over her chest, and judging by the look on her face, the Doctor had the feeling that she had been a witness of the little exchange that happened.

"She's mad at you," the girl commented, twisting at her hair. She made an odd tsking sound and with a shake of her head, added, "You should make it up to her."

"Don't you have to do something else besides commenting about other people's lives?" the Doctor retorted. The girl flashed a strangely mischievous smile. With another twist of her hair, she replied, "Don't have much to do – but just some advice."

"Can we go now, please?" a boy – who appeared to be around the same age as the girl – asked from behind, his voice whining. The girl rolled her eyes and answered, "Fine – I'm up for some ice cream, anyways." As she ducked out of the waiting line, the girl said over her shoulder, "Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend! It'll help!"

"She's not my – _who are you_, anyways?" the Doctor asked her indignantly.

"Amelia," the girl replied. Winking, she turned to the boy. "C'mon, Rory – the line at the ice cream shop might not be as bad!" Pushing the door, the girl added, "Good luck, mister!"

The Doctor stared with wide eyes as the pair quickly walked out of the shop. He felt his hearts sinking and rising in an uneven, unpredictable pattern until suddenly, an angry voice shouted, "Are you going to move up or what?" Quickly turning, the Doctor strode back up to Clara, who didn't appear to have caught any of the conversation that the Doctor just had.

_Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend! It'll help! _

The Doctor stared down at Clara's brown head. All at once, he felt his hands slowly moving to her shoulders – _not the hugging type, not the hugging type, not the hugging type _– but…do something to make it up to Clara, yes? And she was a…hugging type, right?

_Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend. _

_I'm not her boyfriend, _the Doctor thought automatically. _I told her that. It wouldn't be fair for me to just – hug – or…kiss. _For a fleeting second, the Doctor wondered if Clara was a kissing type of person. Or if _he _was. Probably not. But what would it feel like? Would Clara want to kiss him?

Would kissing Clara make things up between them?

The Doctor's hands remained hovering over Clara's shoulder. He could feel his breath coming out in short, uneasy breaths, and then slowly, his hands fell down to his sides.

_No. _

If the Doctor kissed Clara, it would make things look too…forced. Fake. Something that the Doctor didn't want to be. Not now. Maybe later…maybe when the timing wasn't as imperfect…maybe Clara could actually _see _the Doctor. He knew that Clara had said she could finally see him - and he knew that she probably meant it, but there were some things that people could say but never truly understand.

The Doctor had the sickening feeling that though Clara thought she was far away from his eleventh (or twelfth, whatever,) incarnation of himself, she couldn't properly see him for who he was. The signs were everywhere – the way she went quiet after the Doctor said something as simple as "are you only getting that now?" or temporarily leaving her back at the restaurant…but the Doctor was going to come back for Clara.

_But was that what his eleventh incarnation would do? Leave? Probably not, _the Doctor thought bitterly. _And would my eleventh incarnation say…different words? Probably. _

No, if the Doctor made _any _gesture towards Clara – a hug, a kiss – it would appear desperate and…incorrect. This was not the time to make any gestures or…making up.

Closing his eyes, the Doctor quickly ducked out of the line and silently headed out of the shop.

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><strong>AN - Actually, Amy and Rory lived in an English village, but I mean...just pretend that they happened to be in the area for a school trip or something. Or it might not have been Amy and Rory at all. Maybe it was just a coincidence. (*evil smile*) And if you couldn't tell already, this chapter was set shortly after _Deep Breath. _[8x01.] And no, the chapters will not be in order of the episodes. I just thought this was a good starter. I also won't be taking any requests, purely because I already have the scenerios planned out in my head. :) **

**Obviously, I'll be uploading the next five chapters at one point. (Later. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up in less than five days...or maybe it'll be uploaded tomorrow, if it's a good day to write. :)) **

**Reviews are always awesome! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not. **


	2. Second Time

**I read ****_The Blood Cell_**** by James Goss - a ****_Doctor Who_**** story - and let me just say...Whouffaldi shippers will like this book. XD Now enough of that - enjoy!**

**Oh, and thank you for all of the Private Messages and comments regarding the bomb threat the other day - yes, everyone at my school was fine. We were all a bit shaken up and scared (and a bit uneasy about returning to the school), but everything is alright. :) Thanks for all of the concern! :') **

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><p><em>Second Time - because he didn't want to scare her.<em>

The Doctor was resting the palms of his hands against the TARDIS console, his mind running over with the possible things Clara Oswald might have seen. The way she had looked at him - the way she spoke to him - had sent a chill up his spine. It was the look - the sound - of someone knowing something that the Doctor didn't. And he truly hated that feeling, especially if it came from Clara.

But there was something else in the way Clara looked at him - something fond, something kind, something caring. The Doctor had been aware of Clara looking over him with that expression ever since she returned from...wherever. He sensed her looking over at him like that even after they dropped Orson off - even as the TARDIS parked nearby the apartment building Clara wanted to be close to.

The Doctor had been watching Clara from the corners of his eyes, too. He had been taking silent notes of how she was walking around him in her high heels. He had observed the way her lips would twitch into a sad smile. He had seen how Clara was slow to leave.

So when the Doctor watched Clara walk towards him, he had to control his breathing and movements. At that moment, everything about Clara - every sad, beautiful thing about her - made him want to press his lips against hers and wrap his arms around her waist and tell her that she needn't think about…whatever she was thinking.

Or something like that.

But what that good would that do? He would undoubtedly scare Clara away - and she didn't need scares today, not after all of the events that occurred in the last few hours. Not to mention the fact that the Doctor would look odd doing so…

The Doctor now casually flicked his eyes over to Clara - a silent message which would hopefully translate into, _I see you and I know you're coming here._

Suddenly, with a wide smile, Clara flung her arms around the Doctor. At that moment, he was fairly sure that all of the air stored in his body was being sucked out of him. He stiffened for a split second - wondering if he could possibly savor the embrace - but then he started to think, _You'll scare her away. You can't do anything back._

With those thoughts planted in his mind, the Doctor opened his mouth and started to protest, "No, not the hugging! You know I'm against the hugging! No!" He struggled around Clara's grip, but not so quickly so that she would give out. He found it quite easy, actually – Clara was pressing herself against him, and her hold was so strong that the Doctor toppled a little ways to the side. (He had to suppress a smile at the thought.)

When Clara _did _drop her arms, a beam was placed delicately over her face. "I'll be seeing you soon, then," she said lightly, her arms swinging casually at her sides. The Doctor had to force himself to look as stoic as possible as he replied, "I'll be in charge of that, thank you very much."

"Ooh, don't give me the grumpy face," Clara retorted. She started to head out for the doors and said over her shoulder, "And don't think about traveling for too long by yourself, either! I don't want to be yanked into another…chase that involves me driving the TARDIS." The Doctor only gave Clara a dry smile in return. "Pity," he said. "I thought you were beginning to get along with her."

"Ha," Clara shook her head and patted a hand against the door. As she started to push it open, however, she turned around. Her smile was slowly fading off her face, once again replaced by a look of uncertainty. "Are you sure you'll be fine by yourself?" she asked. The Doctor pushed himself off the console and managed to take a few steps closer to Clara. "Why would you ask something like that?"

Clara bit down on the corner of her lip. (And that was _quite _the distraction. _God_, the Doctor can't kiss her. Remember that! There won't be any room for goodbye this time! No. No, no, no, no, no – no farewells over here, and the Doctor has to play his part for that to happen.) "It's…ah…" her voice drifted and her eyes wandered back to the console. She exhaled a slow, soft breath and added, "It's nothing."

And the next gesture – very much like the hug – was unexpected. She reached over and gave the Doctor's arm a quick squeeze. "Just take care of yourself," she commented softly and with a small bob of her head, Clara ducked out of the TARDIS.

The Doctor didn't realize that he was actually holding his breath until he realized that his head was beginning to grow lighter. Parting his lips to let some air out, the Doctor quickly turned and headed back to the console. He closed his eyes and quickly started to flick the switches and pull the levers to take himself away from the unknown apartment complex. The TARDIS was a bit quieter and larger without Clara around.

_Scaring Clara Oswald, _the Doctor mused to himself sadly. _I suppose I'd be traveling alone for a while if that ever happens. And I won't have a Clara Oswald to make me take care...of myself. _

Oh, what a hollow, sad lesson to learn for everyone…to know that all of your actions would result in the leaving or staying of a friend, of a companion, of someone _you care about. _Of someone who you might possibly be driven to insanity without. Of someone who kept you grounded.

Shaking his head violently, the Doctor yanked a bit harder on the next lever. He needed to clear his head of these thoughts. The sooner he'd forget about worrying for Clara, the better off he'd be…and maybe he'll find it a bit more tolerable to control himself next time he picks her up.

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><p><strong>AN - I always personally thought that there was a certain element of fear that played in the role of the Doctor trying to get closer to Clara. Because in the end, I think that's what everyone is scared of - doing something or saying something that might scare off the one person who you want to be with forever. And so, to avoid that tragic ending, we do everything in our power to keep ourselves in the line - in the faded, grey areas of uncertainty - and try to cling onto the little amount of control in the relationship we have... **

**Anyways. Reviews are always great! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not!**


	3. Third Time

**I am in ****_Boston_****. Yup. Went through a five-hour road trip, agonized over my homework mound and composition essay, and woke up with a massive headache and a dire need to play in the rain. (It's raining outside right now. And it's very pretty.) ****_Gawd_****, I remember when I used to think road trips were fun. Now I just want to curl up in my bed and do nothing except listen to Taylor Swift and sleep. **

**But today, I managed to scrape myself together and get some homework done...and finally write up this chapter because I was tired of realizing that I still needed to update stories. ****_But don't worry! _****I'm still sane-ish! (It's all a bit ish-y. Heh. Got that reference? Shut up, you totally got it. XD) Enjoy! **

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><p><em>Third time – because she was with someone else. <em>

When Clara walked into the TARDIS after her time with Soldier Boy, the Doctor was flipping through pages of a book that he had plucked from one of the shelves. He wasn't quite sure where it came from – all that it was called _Something Borrowed_ and that according to the summary, was about a woman who had 'accidentally' had an affair with her friend's husband-to-be. (_Why _the Doctor would _ever_ be carrying a book like that was _beyond _him. And after the events of today, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to read about the concept of 'stealing' someone from another or affairs.)

"New book? Is it worth reading?" Clara asked, swinging up to the upper level with a cheerful bounce in her step. The Doctor automatically pushed the book back into its shelf. "No," he replied. "It's silly."

Clara gave the Doctor a sly grin and suddenly leaned towards him. The Doctor – unsure how else to react – took a half-step back, only faintly alarmed by the brunette's sudden movements. For a moment, the two were silent. Clara looked up at the Doctor with her wide, doe-like eyes and for a moment, her lips seemed to melt into a soft, sad smile. The Doctor felt the muscles in his shoulders stiffen as Clara reached down – moved her arm past him and –

"_Something Borrowed_," Clara read aloud. Teasingly (and _oh_, so _teasingly_,) poking the tip of her tongue in between her teeth, waved the book around in the air. "And look at that – it's even in English for once!" She flipped the book on its other side and narrowed her eyes at the summary. The Doctor – not wanting to see her reaction – pushed past her and started to walk down to the main console. "Don't know where it came from," he said over his shoulder, trying to sound as careless as possible. "Just…showed up. Like it always does."

"Seems like it," Clara murmured. The Doctor heard the soft _pssh _sound of the book being pushed back into its place, followed by the light tap of Clara's shoes stepping down the stairs. The Doctor managed to scrape together enough courage to turn and look at her.

A peculiar expression was on Clara's face – her head was tilted curiously to the side, her eyes scanning up and down the Doctor's face. "Well," she said after a while, drumming her fingers thoughtfully against the railing. "Didn't seem to be your type of book, anyways."

"Of course," the Doctor replied automatically and started to flick around the levers, though he didn't have much of a location in mind today. "So…how is it going with PE?"

"_Maths teacher_," Clara hummed, swinging down to the console. She leaned against the metal, her fingers splayed out over the buttons. "He's…fine. Really. Just. Fine." There was an odd note of bluntness and sullenness in Clara's voice when she spoke those words. The Doctor considered addressing it, but at the same time, he wasn't quite sure he was up to listening to his companion rant about a person – a possible _love interest _– who wasn't _him. _

_God_, the Doctor couldn't believe how silly he must have looked when realizing that it was _Soldier Boy _who Clara liked. _Why _would she like _him? _A _soldier? _Someone who wasn't even – and why did she say that she _loved _him? What kind of rubbish was that?

_Well, you never told her about your _own _feelings, so couldn't really expect much, _a small voice chided the Doctor. He felt his lips turn down in a frown, though he quickly turned away so Clara wouldn't see it. He started to pull at random levers, even though he was sure not to actually get the TARDIS to move. The simple truth was that he didn't really know where to go at the moment – surprisingly enough – and the fact that Clara was standing _right there _and thinking about Soldier Boy wasn't exactly helping, either.

"Your choice this time," the Doctor said, letting go of the console. He nodded at the viewing screen. Clara grinned, arms crossing over her chest. "Really?" she asked. "You haven't let me chosen a place to go to since Robin Hood."

"Yes, well, I'm bored and feeling merciful today, Clara," the Doctor responded. He gestured to the console. "Well?"

Clara's hands fell away and she started to walk around the room, her eyes drifting up to the ceiling. "Actually," she said slowly. "I wasn't really planning on going anywhere. Just here to – you know – pop in and see how you were…" Her voice drifted and eyes going back to the Doctor, finished, "Doing."

The Doctor tried to ignore the jump in his hearts at those words. He placed his hands over the railings and said as casually as he could, "Doing fine. And I'm assuming you're fine with…" Not wanting to continue, the Doctor waved his hand carelessly in the air.

"'Course I am," Clara replied quickly. She walked over to the Doctor and pressing her own hands against the railing, leaned in close. "Just – you know – are _you?_"

Clara was too close again.

This time, however, the Doctor couldn't bring himself back. He could actually make out every little detail on Clara's face – the little stray hairs falling down her face, her eyelashes, even a little smudge of gloss at the tip of her lips. It took everything – and the Doctor meant _everything _– in him not to lean forward, cup his hands under her chin…and just –

_No, no, no, _the Doctor thought frantically. _No. She's with someone else. Someone else who isn't you. Shut up. No. _

If he wasn't conflicted enough already, what Clara did next made him want to sink to the floor. "A woman…caught having an affair with her friend's fiancé," she whispered slowly. She lightly tapped the Doctor's hands and said, "That kind of relationship would end disastrously, wouldn't it?"

"You wouldn't like disastrous," the Doctor managed to say. "You'd want everything to end perfectly."

"Who said I was talking about myself?" Clara asked quietly, and with a push from the railing, she turned from him and headed out of the TARDIS doors.

It took a while for the Doctor to de-code Clara's words.

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><p><strong>AN - Who else is incredibly terrified for tonight? 'Cause I know that I'm gonna die sooner or later today. And tumblr is going to explode, too. There'll be GIFs of Whouffaldi and fan fictions just cropping up EVERYWHERE. And I feel like whether the ending to season eight will be happy or sad, there'll be tears. **

**And I sincerely hope Whouffaldi will be saved. And that Jenna Coleman stays, because I DON'T WANT OUR IMPOSSIBLE GIRL TO GOOOO. I feel like she just came to the show - she deserves to stay a bit longer, not to mention that I wouldn't mind seeing her in another season with our beloved Doctor. *sniffs* And if Clara _does _die or leave, I bet the Doctor will be the one to hug her this time. Or she'll say, "Run, you clever boy and remember me." OW. I JUST KILLED A PART OF MYSLEF. LEMME CRY NOW. ****In conclusion, my body is ready to be broken to bits by Moffat. *lifts hands like the Eleventh Doctor in the Rings of Ahkaten or however you spell it* TAKE IT! TAKE IT AAAAAALL, BABY! **

**Reviews are always great! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not. (And here's a shock blanket. *offers a big pile of blankets* Pass it on.) **


	4. Fourth Time

**I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE SCHOOL. CAN IT JUST NOT EXIST ANYMORE?! PLEASE?! ONE QUARTER IS ENOUGH! (But there's a four-day weekend coming up, so that's got to count for something, I suppose.) Taking two minutes to update this story - and then I'm going to have to force myself to study and do the rest of my schoolwork. Whoever said that school was easy must have either been a GENIUS or someone who HAS NEVER BEEN TO SCHOOL BECAUSE AGAIN, THEY WERE TOO SMART. (Don't know how that makes any sense, but let's pretend it does.) **

**So...here we go! Next chapter! **

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><p><em>Fourth time – because he couldn't. <em>

"There's a moon where you could stand directly in front of it and still see your shadow – and it's _humongous. _It just _plays _out on the surface of the moon and everyone on the planets below can see it. A bit eerie and spooky for the civilians, but who doesn't love a good scare?" the Doctor was asking, peering through Clara's fish bowl. He watched as the goldfish weaved in around a clump of fake seaweed and looked back up for Clara. She wasn't there. Instead, the Doctor found her in her bedroom, curled up on top of her bed and listlessly marking papers.

"Or we could go to the _Tardus celeriter _market, which is this large, open place where people are constantly being switched in speed; it's quite exciting. One minute, you can be running from an angry salesman, and in the next, you'll be walking through what seems like…like…syrup." The Doctor said, leaning against the doorframe. He watched Clara with a hopeful expression on his face. "Well?"

Clara didn't answer. She flipped a page of the paper she was marking and letting out a small sigh, started to move her pen across it.

The Doctor frowned. He snapped his fingers rapidly, trying to get Clara's attention. To his annoyance, she didn't even look up. Pursing his lips, the Doctor marched forward and yanked the papers away from Clara's hands. That did it – her head snapped upwards, eyes wide. "Doctor," she said in a low, quiet voice, "what are you doing?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been giving you a series of descriptions of places we might want to visit," the Doctor replied, throwing the papers on Clara's desk. She gave a small shriek of protest as a few of them fluttered to the ground. She instantly bounced off the bed, undoubtedly trying to gather up the papers, but the Doctor intercepted her with a push of his hands on her shoulders.

"Ugh! Doctor, I needed those!" Clara shouted, trying to shove past the Doctor. She pounded uselessly at his arms, but it wasn't much use. The Doctor remained in front of Clara, letting his eyes travel lazily up to the ceiling to let her know that her actions didn't have any effect on him whatsoever. "_Doctor_," Clara hissed and with a final punch, the brunette's head dropped unexpectedly over the Doctor's shoulder.

The Doctor immediately startled. He looked down at Clara and furrowing his brow, called softly, "Clara?" He risked placing his hands over her arms. "Are you alright?"

"No," Clara replied, her voice only slightly muffled by the fabric of the Doctor's coat. She pushed herself off and looked up at the Doctor with tired eyes. "I've got too many papers to grade, too many progress reports to fill out, too many parents wanting to make meetings to talk about their children, and too many – damn – issues – to – deal – with!" She finished those last words by stamping her foot down on the ground.

The Doctor stared at Clara. Now that she spoke of it, he was beginning to see traces of fatigue on her face. There were dark, baggy semi-circles beneath Clara's eyes and her entire face had gone pale. Her shoulders had rounded over, making her look smaller than normal, and the Doctor could detect a faint tremble in her limbs.

"Clara," he said slowly, "have you been sleeping?"

The brunette rubbed her face with her hands and shook her head. "Not really," she murmured. "I've been so busy and stressed and –" The rest of her sentence was interrupted by a short, breathless sob escaping from her lips. The Doctor felt his widen as Clara slowly sank down into her bed, her entire body shaking. Without as much as a moment of hesitation, the Doctor sat down next to her and gently reached over for her hand. Clara – to his relief – took the gesture and giving it a squeeze, re-buried her head in his shoulder.

"I don't know if I can do this," she said tearfully. "I'm going to make a mess of things; I just know it! Danny's going to hate me, and so are the students and the other teachers and the parents and there's just _so much work left to do _–"

The Doctor listened to the rest of Clara's rant, cringing inwardly every once in a while at the mention of Danny Pink. (Ugh. Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy, Soldier Boy…)

After some time, however, the Doctor grew steadily aware of the fact that his shoulder was beginning to get…uncomfortably warm. With a frown, he looked down at Clara's head and adjusting his position, realized that the heat was coming off of _Clara_.

The Doctor quickly pushed a hand up to Clara's forehead, causing her to silence almost instantaneously. "What are you –" she started to ask, but the Doctor interrupted, "I think you might have a fever."

Clara stared. "I'm not sick," she countered hurriedly. The Doctor narrowed his eyes at Clara. "It would make sense," he said. "Stress and lack of relaxation can be indirect factors to a weakening in the immune system. It might also explain how emotional you've been…" His voice drifted as Clara's eyes steeled dangerously at those words. The Doctor cleared his throat and awkwardly brought his hand away from Clara's forehead. "You're sick," he concluded simply.

"I'm not –"

"Shivering, paleness, unpleasant body temperature," the Doctor responded. "You can't argue with the evidence, Clara, even if you'd like to."

Clara crossed her arms. "I can't," she said in a hollow voice. "I can't get sick – I've got too much work to do –"

"Which you'll finish when you recover," the Doctor cut off. He pushed himself off the bed and started to re-pile the papers at Clara's desk. "You – get into bed. Sleep. Or take a shower and _then _sleep. Just rest." He turned his head over his shoulder to see Clara watching him with a lifted eyebrow. "Why're you doing this?" she asked, puzzled.

"Am I not allowed to provide some help for my companion?" the Doctor inquired. Clara pressed her lips together. "Well, _no_," she replied slowly. "But you don't usually…I mean, I didn't think that you would…" She struggled to find the right words. Eyes flitting to the ground, Clara mumbled, "It's fine."

She made her way to the closet and looked back at the Doctor, a ghost of a smile hovering over her lips. "If I _am _to change into my sleeping things, it'd be best for you to be out of the room, don't you think?" she asked.

The Doctor blinked. He silently pointed out the door and with a terse bob of his head, stepped out. He closed the door behind himself and letting out a soft sigh, rested his head against the wood. Well, he supposed it wouldn't be too bad for him not to travel today – and Clara obviously wasn't up for it. He wouldn't have wanted Clara to go anywhere, anyways, with her being ill and all.

After a few minutes of silence, the Doctor called, "Am I allowed to come back in now?"

"Yes," Clara replied from the room and encouraged by the confirmation, the Doctor pushed the door back open. Clara had (thankfully) taken the Doctor's advice; she was in her bed, blankets tucked around herself and face flush against her pillow.

The Doctor pulled up the stool from Clara's bureau and sat himself down so that he would be at her bedside. His actions did not go unnoticed, for a minute later, Clara's eyes fluttered open. "Are you going to stay?" she whispered. The Doctor pretended to be interested in the pattern of Clara's bedspread. "It appears so," he replied. "Can't risk having you try to grade papers when I'm gone."

A small smile twitched at the corners of Clara's lips and humming softly under her breath, she curled deeper into the bed. The Doctor watched her fall into sleep. He occasionally adjusted the blankets – he felt that they didn't cover Clara all the way – and removed Clara's arm from her face. (She had thrown it over them whilst sleeping.)

Every once in a while, the Doctor would be able to check Clara's fever – it didn't seem to be quite as hot to be considered dangerous, but he still would have liked it to be lower. Shooting a furtive glance around the bedroom, the Doctor stood up and made his way into the kitchen. It wasn't the first time he had to take care of a sick patient – he had experienced plenty of different people suffering from different illnesses, and from what he had gathered over years of traveling, most people required something cool to reduce a fever.

The Doctor pulled out a bowl from one of the cupboards and filled it with cold water from the sink. He ducked back out and headed for the bathroom to collect a few towels. Letting them hang at his arm, the Doctor grabbed the bowl of water and walked back into Clara's bedroom.

The brunette hadn't moved from her position on the bed, but the Doctor _did _notice that her eyes were opening. The Doctor strode over to Clara's bedside and placing the bowl of water on her nightstand, sat down on the stool. He wordlessly plucked the towel from his arm and soaked it with the water. When satisfied with the towel, he gently placed it over Clara's forehead. She let out a tiny sigh in response, sliding a hand underneath her pillow and nestling deeper into sleep.

A sad smile twinged at the Doctor's lips. He lowered his hand from Clara's face and placed it lightly over her arm, making sure that the gesture wouldn't disturb her.

It didn't.

"Oh, Clara," he murmured. He gazed fondly at the small brunette and leaning close, hovered just over her cheek. The Doctor automatically neared her and then –

Almost as if he had been burned, the Doctor leaped back. He pushed himself a bit further away from Clara's bed, eyes wide and hearts beating fast. He slowly stood up and walking back against the wall, huffed out a breath. Shaking his head again (only with a more vigorous manner this time), the Doctor headed out of the bedroom. He just couldn't kiss her, could he?

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><p><strong>AN - Yay for boring titles! (I couldn't come up with a proper title...sorry!) **

**Reviews are always awesome! Seriously, you guys - let's just take a walk down guilt lane, shall we? I have the firm belief that if someone has the time to click the fave/follow button, he/she can take an additional two seconds to write a comment. (Hopefully a nice one. Or one with constructive criticism.) I could post this long, incredibly relatable story about reviewing I found on tumblr to make people feel guiltier, but I'm going to trust my gut and hope that you guys understand what direction I'm coming from. So, with that said...*hopeful smile* Review, please? Constructive criticism is acceptable, but flames are not! **


	5. Fifth Time

**I had to do this. I had to. My heart still hearts after DIH. Santa Clause has to bring the Doctor and Clara back together. The Doctor even looked so lonely and sad and tired by himself in the TARDIS before Santa actually knocked! Even though it was only for a brief second, I wanted to hug him. GAWD LEMME JUST LOVE YOU. I'm pretty sure the entire _Doctor Who _fandom broke. I'm still not over it, damn it. **

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><p><em>Fifth time – because it would hurt too much. <em>

The Doctor felt like someone was repeatedly punching him in the chest when Clara wrapped her arms around his neck. He could feel Clara's breath on his shoulder – feel her chin resting right by his neck – sense the relaxation of her entire body when he placed his own arms around her.

And it killed him inside.

The Doctor could even feel the burn of tears in his eyes – but _dear God, _he was _not _going to cry. _You're supposed to be happy, Doctor, _he thought to himself. _Pretend to be happy, pretend to be alright, pretend that Gallifrey is really waiting for you and pretend that you're happy for Clara. Pretend, pretend, pretend. _

The Doctor was finding it increasingly painful to keep the same position. He swallowed around a lump in his throat and cast his eyes out the window, where the TARDIS still stood. It struck him how lonely it'd be inside the TARDIS without Clara bustling around. It was a big place, the TARDIS – too big for him, and he knew that when he first took it. But then again, he always had someone with him in the TARDIS. Someone who made its size not quite as overwhelmingly large.

And Clara, for some time, was that person.

She was leaving now.

When Clara finally pulled away, the Doctor had to plaster on another smile – or at least, some form of a smile. (He didn't really want to look _too _cheerful, either.) "Well, then," he said quietly. He pointed outside. "I guess I'll just…pop off, then."

"Like you usually do, yeah?" Clara asked quietly. She wore a small smile on her face, something that made the Doctor's hearts kick again at the thought of not seeing it again. Instead, he managed a nod and replied, "Exactly. Pop off, get to Gallifrey, all those things that normal people do." Clara let out a light laugh and shaking her head, murmured, "Never thought I'd hear you say something like that. Do things that normal people do, I mean."

The Doctor nodded his head. "Neither did I," he said quietly, more to himself than Clara. Then, clapping his hands together, said, "I'll just…go." He looked over at Clara. "Unless you actually want to see me off, of course." Clara, wrapping her arms around her torso, shrugged her shoulders. "Why not," she responded. "Just one last time."

She walked out of the building first, head tilted up to the sky. The Doctor hesitated, taking a small moment to stay behind. Clara – to his relief – didn't turn around immediately. The Doctor just wanted to capture this moment – this one last moment before the entire deal would be sealed. He would leave, Clara would be happy with P.E., and then he'd have to…do something else. Do something else that involved not remembering Clara, that is.

Clara looked completely at peace from the angle the Doctor was in. Her chestnut hair was blown back around her shoulders, her arms relaxing at her sides and tucked in the pockets of her jacket. When the Doctor took a few (quiet) steps around, he could make out her profile. Her wide eyes were focusing on a single cloud, her lips curved into a smile. For once, the Doctor couldn't really decipher it. Was it a smile of peace? Sadness? But Clara had no reason to be sad, right? This was what she wanted.

Clara flicked a glance at the Doctor. The smile broadened. "Well," she said slowly. She patted a hand over the TARDIS and said, "There you go."

"Right," the Doctor responded. He took a few steps towards the TARDIS and, resting a palm over the door, looked at Clara over her shoulder. She still wore the same smile on her face – a bit hesitant, but still a smile. The Doctor found himself wanting to stop time again. This was it. Goodbye. A real, proper goodbye, and this time, there weren't any trips involved to get Clara to change her mind.

_You could always give her a goodbye kiss, _a small voice whispered to the Doctor in his mind. _Already broke the tradition of hugging, didn't you? _

The Doctor turned back around and closed his eyes. A goodbye kiss. Too much like a fairy-tale, in the Doctor's opinion, but still…that would be _quite _the way to end it. But the Doctor couldn't. He wouldn't. Because what would happen to him if he _did _kiss Clara? If he was to kiss Clara _now_, it would destroy him – maybe destroy her. She already had Danny Pink to go back to, and she already made it clear that she wasn't ready to lie to anyone again. If the Doctor made any more gestures of affection, he was sure that the guilt would crush Clara.

And he couldn't force that on her.

And even _if _Clara wouldn't go back to Danny, then what would happen to the Doctor? It'd just be another memory – and a bittersweet one at that – and it would leave him emptier than ever. _It would hurt too much. _

"Doctor?" Clara's voice was quiet. The Doctor turned around to look at the small brunette. Hands still in her pockets, she went on to say, "Traveling with you made me feel special." She paused and then added, "Thank you for making me feel special."

The Doctor's hearts sank. He wasn't going to survive this, was he?

"Thank you for doing exactly the same," the Doctor managed to reply. Then, giving Clara one last smile, he ducked into the TARDIS. He closed the door behind himself and spared himself a moment to rest his head against the wood. "Time to leave," he murmured. Practically forcing himself to push away from the doors, the Doctor made his way to the console.

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><p><strong>AN - And now, I will go back to writing chapters for other _Doctor Who _stories. *sigh* Gosh darn it. I think I'm going to end up releasing some different multi-chapter AU fic on Whouffaldi, 'cause my heart needs it. Gah. Just. Doctor. Clara. Kiss. Just. Once. Please. (I mean, Nine, Ten, and Eleven has kissed their companions! IT'S TIME FOR TWELVE TO KISS CLARA NOW AND I WILL SATISFY YOU ALL WITH IT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER.) **

***sniffs* I want Clara and the Doctor to marry and have babies that run around in the TARDIS. Is that too much to ask? **

**Reviews, as always, are welcome! Constructive criticism is tolerated, too, but flames are not!**


	6. And the One Time He Did

**Wrote this last night at around midnight, because that's when my best ideas come on. Plus, there's something satisfying about listening to ****_You Are In Love _****by Taylor Swift and the tapping of your fingers against the keyboard. XD (Speaking of which, I listened to that song while writing this chapter...****_God_****, the entire ****_1989 _****album is basically about the Doctor and Clara's relationship. I mean, in ****_You Are In Love_****, it literally says, "You're my best friend. And you knew what it was - he is in love.") **

**So...let the kiss happen! (You might want to catch the sneak peek of the Christmas Special to read this chapter. You can find it on YouTube - it was for Children in Need. Don't know much about that event, but they showed the sneak peek. Gawd. If you didn't watch it yet, just watch it and let your feels explode.) **

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><p><em>And the One Time He Did <em>

When the Doctor walked back into the TARDIS, Clara Oswald was already waiting for him. Still dressed in her nightgown and eyes wide with surprise, she asked, "So you're back then? Actually, properly back?" Before the Doctor could answer, Clara pressed her hands to her face. Shaking her head, she let out a small, incredulous giggle. "Oh, my _God_," she whispered, more to herself than to the Doctor. "I thought I wouldn't ever see you again – no, I thought you were going to be gone forever. I thought we had our goodbye and everything was really, very _done_." Clara looked back up at the Doctor, hands still over her face. Letting out a little sigh of awe, Clara whispered, "Are you really here? Or am I still dreaming?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak – _yes_, he was back, and _no_, this wasn't a dream – but he couldn't find himself to do it, mainly because Clara was now running towards him. Just as she had done a few minutes ago, the Doctor found Clara pressing her hands against his arm, as though she was _testing _his physical existence. A scared, anxious frown crossed her face; like in any minute, the Doctor and the TARDIS really might disappear.

Just to prove his point, the Doctor slowly reached over and took Clara's hands. He was stunned to feel them trembling underneath his; Clara Oswald, the woman who always tried so very hard to keep her panic and fear hidden, was _shaking. _

So maybe Santa Clause – or whoever he is – was right. Clara Oswald was _not _fine.

"It's me," the Doctor said gently. He pointed around the TARDIS with his other hand, and with a halfhearted smile, said, "It's not going to fade away. See?" He reached down and pinched Clara's arm, causing her to give a small cry of surprise. "Not fake," the Doctor added.

"Clearly," Clara murmured, letting go of the Doctor's hand to rub the area. Emitting another soft breath, Clara backed a few steps away to look around the TARDIS. She circled the console, took note of the bookshelves still lined around the upper level, and even smiled at the multiple knickknacks littered around the floor. For a fleeting second, the Doctor wondered if he should have cleaned up the place before letting Clara in.

_Now, _he instantly chided to himself. _You're doing this _now_? When there's more at stake? _

"So." Clara said shortly, turning around to look at the Doctor with her arms wrapped around her torso. (_Not over her chest,_ the Doctor couldn't help but to notice. _Not in the same confident, cool way that she had always done before. What exactly happened last time I left?) _"So…is there a real reason why I'm in here? I thought you were busy with…Gallifrey."

"Right. Gallifrey," the Doctor hummed, trying to sound as casual as possible. His eyes travelled up to the ceiling and then, after a beat of silence, said, "I'm allowed to take a break once in a while. Really, running a planet isn't exactly stress-free once you get around doing it."

_Still lying, then. _

Clara's eyebrows jumped up to her hairline. "You really became king," she said quietly, a small smile twitching at the corner of her lips. Her eyes were doing the sad thing again – they were growing wider, darker, and more watery. The Doctor _hated _that. _I'm sorry, _he wanted to shout. _I didn't _want _to lie, but I have to, don't I? I can't keep dragging you around like this, so I swear this'll be the last time I _ever _ask you for something. _

Giving a minuet shrug of the shoulders, the Doctor replied, "Your idea seemed somewhat appealing at the time. Some of the Council members can be a real bother, though, did I mention? Not at all boring, of course, but all they want to do is sit around and talk about laws all day. Not that I don't care for them, but really, you'd think they'd have a sense of humor once in a while." Striding up to the console, the Doctor shot Clara a (hopefully) convincing look. "That's what's coming from my side, anyways. And how're you with…P.E.?"

Clara let her hands fall down to the console, only a few centimeters away from the Doctor's. "Danny, you mean? You could always call him by his name, you know," she responded. She looked up at the Doctor and went on, "He's fine. Back as a maths teacher and his ahem – death was dismissed as some sort of confusion. UNIT somehow took care of it."

"Really," the Doctor answered, trying to keep his voice light. Clara bobbed her head into a single nod. She cleared her throat and looked back down at the console, saying, "Teaching's been fine, too. You know – pretty normal. Pretty quiet. Very…peaceful. Calm."

_And you like that? _The Doctor wanted to ask.

Instead, he nodded back. He pushed himself away from the console and started to walk up to the bookshelves. He could sense Clara's eyes being trained on him, but didn't bother turning around to look at her. Clara Oswald was – somehow – in danger. And something was going to come. Today. Christmas.

_Why was it always Christmas? _

Brushing his fingers over the spines of the books, the Doctor ran through his thoughts. Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara, Clara. She was alive, at least. She looked well. If anything, she looked a bit tired – then again, she'd have to, being a teacher and all – but if there _was _something she was hiding from him, she was doing an awful good job at it. (And that was surprising the Doctor – he prided himself in being someone who wasn't easily fooled, especially by a human.)

But at least she was with him now, even if it might just be for one night. Even if it might just be for a few hours and then back to…Clara being at her boring, peaceful teacher job and being with good, extremely patient P.E. Danny Pink. Solider Boy. Whatever the label was, it just wasn't _the Doctor. _And then the Doctor would go back to running by himself, trying to ignore the too-quiet atmosphere of the TARDIS, trying to get past the fact that he shouldn't park in Clara's flat.

"You're quieter than I last remember you," Clara finally said. At that, the Doctor couldn't help but to look around at her. She was leaning against the railing, head tilted. "Is ruling a planet really that stressful?"

"Can't I be quiet because I want to be?" the Doctor simply asked. Clara pointed a finger at him. "Now, _that's _the Doctor I know," she replied. "The Doctor who constantly snaps back because he was growing annoyed." Playing with the hem of her sleeves, Clara added, "Really forgot how frustrating it was to argue with you when you were in those retort-moods."

"And that's the Clara Oswald I know," the Doctor flung back. "The Clara Oswald who can't help but to make little attentive, somewhat sharp comments when it gets too quiet."

Shaking her head, Clara walked up the stairs to the upper level. "Still wondering how this isn't a dream," she whispered. "I mean…" She gestured to the Doctor helplessly. "I'd sometimes have dreams about you, you know." After a moment of hesitation, Clara cringed. "That sounded awkward," she murmured, but the Doctor really didn't mind.

_Because he secretly had visions of Clara coming back, too. _

Sucking in a breath, Clara continued, "What I mean to say is that…" She closed her eyes, tilting her head to the floor. "I really missed you." Resting a palm of her hand against her cheek, she said, "I just found myself in…times when I'd see your TARDIS in my room, or you walking out of the school to tell me about something interesting, or…or sometimes, when I look up at a star or the moon, I'll think about you and that's when I'd miss you." Snorting, Clara re-opened her eyes. "That sounded sappy," she concluded. "Pity. I never liked cheesy, honeyed-over stories, but…that's where it's always coming from."

Her eyes flit back up at the Doctor. "You're quiet again," she commented. "Tell me all that stuff I said was stupid and silly, Doctor." When the Doctor didn't respond right away, Clara frowned. "Well?" she asked, turning around. "Tell me that that wasn't right for me to say; that you didn't miss me or that this is just some sort of delusion that I've been dreaming up."

The Doctor felt his throat close up. He stared at Clara's back – at her hair tumbling over her shoulders, at the small quiver in her shoulders, at the way her neck bent as she stared down at the floor. _Oh, Clara, _he thought sadly. Slowly, hesitantly, he stretched out a hand, only inches away from her back.

_Say it. Say it now, or you might not ever get her back. Say it, Doctor. _

The Doctor was beginning to wonder if the small voice in his head was really his or someone trying to root him on. Either way, swallowing down, the Doctor replied quietly, "I missed you, too."

Clara immediately turned around. "What?" she asked.

"You heard me," the Doctor responded, looking down at her. He gently placed his hands over her shoulders. "I missed you, too." He gave an incredulous laugh. "Maybe a bit more than I think I would like to admit." He nodded his head at the TARDIS doors. "You think you were getting bothered that I wasn't showing up in your room? I was trying to fight down the habit of landing myself there."

Clara blinked up at him. "Then why didn't you come?" she breathed.

"You…had Danny," the Doctor replied. He paused and then fighting around the lie, added, "And…I had Gallifrey. I didn't think you'd want me to bother you. Obviously." A sad smile stretched across the Doctor's face – he didn't even try hiding the bitterness in it when he said, "You'd get what you want. A normal life, some control in what happens around you without an old man pulling you around."

Clara inched forward, her face close to the Doctor's. "That's the thing, Doctor," she said, her voice lowering. "I…don't even know if that normal life is what I want anymore." She mirrored the Doctor's motions, her hands placed at his shoulders. "Isn't that a bit odd?"

"Not odd," the Doctor murmured. "Though some might say that it was a bit…unexpected."

Clara lifted an eyebrow. "Some might argue that the unexpected is a good thing."

The next word the Doctor breathed out was so quiet that he could barely hear himself say it.

"Maybe."

And then the Doctor was leaning forward – and then Clara was leaning in – and that was enough. Clara's body was flush against his, face tilted up so her lips could meet his. The Doctor cupped his hand underneath Clara's chin, just to catch the kiss a bit better. It was a different feeling than the other kisses that the Doctor experienced – (then again, the first kiss he had gotten in this body was from the Master – or Missy, whatever – and that was…a bit quick,) – softer, more bittersweet.

Clara lazily wrapped her arms around the Doctor's shoulders, her fingers playing ever so gently with his hair. In return, the Doctor allowed himself to lower his hands around the curves of her hips.

Everything had flown out of the Doctor's head, and he had the feeling that Clara wasn't really paying attention to anything else in this moment, either. He forgot about everything – forgot that there was some sinister plot revolving around the two at the moment, forgot that Clara had Danny, forgot that he had been lying to Clara about Gallifrey…because all that didn't really matter.

When the two _did _part, all that was left of them were a few shuddering, shaky breaths. Clara had her hands rested over the Doctor's chest now, and the Doctor's head was positioned over her shoulder. The small brunette leaned forward, the tip of her head gently brushing against him. "Okay," she whispered. "We just did that."

"Apparently so," the Doctor managed to reply.

Clara looked up at him. And then, with a weak smile, she said, "At least I know you're real now…and not another one of my daydreams."

"That, Clara, I think, goes for me as well."

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><p><strong>AN - Or _Wonderland _by Taylor Swift...that song fits them pretty well, too. Mostly about the Doctor and Clara traveling, though. ("And we pretended it could last forever. We found Wonderland, you and I got lost in it - and life was never worse but never better.") Sounds like them to me. XD **

**Anyways. Thank you for all the amazing support, you guys! Really - when I first started this story, I was a bit nervous, because I wasn't quite confident in my take on the Twelfth Doctor. But hey, that's where practice comes in, right? And you guys were all so kind and sweet towards this little mini-story - so thanks a bunch! I think I'm going to begin writing more stories for _Doctor Who_, specifically Whouffaldi, because I mean...*giggles* It's like an addiction, isn't it? *sly smile* **

**Thank you!**


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